Report by: KEVIN WALSH
Not anticipating any such requirement I did not keep any notes of the Toastmasters Divisional Speech Contest on the afternoon of Saturday, April 8th in Limerick’s Castletroy Park Hotel. So I can only try to paint a decidedly very incomplete and rather patchy impressionist word picture of that occasion, sketching the bright colours of just a very few things that retain a vivid freshness and clarity in my recollection. A selection of images that is entirely personal, for of course with such an overwhelming tidal wave of talent, creativity and excellent presentation, so much is now shrouded in blurred mists but flecked here and there by beams that touched a receptive chord. Our minds can only assimilate so much information which is what Patrick Kavanagh was referring to no doubt when he said that it takes a whole lifetime just to get to know even one corner of a field. However it is always very satisfying to try to capture something transient and fleeting from the ceaseless flux of life and to give it an element of permanence through the written word, especially when the occasion so remembered was one of such great enjoyment and pleasure.
That day the audience were treated to eight speeches of an exceptionally high standard of eloquence, illumination and distinction, telling of how so many people today have become ever more articulate and enhanced in confidence and assurance, offering powerful testimony to the success of our organisation promoting personal growth and development through the building of skills in communication and leadership in mutual good fellowship and support. Combined with an evaluation contest which featured some nine contestants the event was an epic of thought, listening and speech, more than twice the length of a normal two hour Toastmasters meeting.
It was a gloriously fine day as we crossed the serene Blackwater at Fermoy and followed the sun-drenched road towards the Treaty City passing the landmark towns and villages of Mitchelstown, Hospital and Caherconlish, making excellent time in the sultry conditions notwithstanding our encountering a number of slow-moving vehicles along the way. Everywhere looks so pretty and attractive in brilliant sunshine; the sunlight glinting on the great spinning blades of wind turbines standing tall and majestic on a high tree-encrusted ridge were particularly impressive.
The contest was held in a large spacious room normally used one imagined for wedding receptions for doorways along the entrance hallway were adorned with white drapery appropriate for such occasions. The Division B Director Patricia O’Connell extended warm greetings and genial welcome to all and introduced the Contest Chair for the afternoon, Gerard Mannix who guided proceedings forward with charm and aplomb, while Willie Grace acted as Topicsmaster. It is always much more difficult to manage a successful topics session with a gathering of Toastmasters drawn from a wide area and from many different clubs who are unknown to the Topicsmaster, but as befits his delightful surname Willie rose to this challenge with true precision and grace.
Having been drawn first in the order of speakers I felt it necessary to settle to the occasion by contributing to a topic on one’s favourite book, evoking that great novel The Leopard by Giuseppe Tomasi de Lampedusa which describes the declining fortunes of a once powerful ducal family in mid-19th century Sicily set against the background of upheavals accompanying the struggle for Italian national reunification, the Risorgimento. Especially I recall the chapter describing the passing of the old Duke who after a rather unhappy love life falls ill in a Neapolitan hotel room where the angel of death comes to him not as a dark sinister figure but a highly beautiful young woman: what makes the story especially poignant is that its author was himself a dying man who never lived to see his work published. I was very gratified that several people approached me afterwards with pen and notepaper in hand to write down the book title and author’s name so that they too might have the pleasure of reading it for themselves. A pleasure shared is not diluted but greatly increased.
And while on the subject of reading, one lady in attendance that day told me she had to leave at the tea-break to make the two and a half hour drive back to a church in Swords in County Dublin to read the part of the narrator in the Gospel of the Lord’s Passion in the evening vigil Mass for Palm Sunday, explaining that none could be found to substitute. Her laudable dedication and commitment was a powerful reminder of the sacred time of year that was in it, the holiest season of Easter, with its deeply moving rituals around suffering and renewal, of light shining in the darkness, which helps us to cope with life’s complexities and mysteries from which indeed the contents of the afternoon’s speeches were also distilled and shone a revealing light of hope and inspiration.
I can only bring you just a few scattered images of a selection of the speeches. Having been drawn first in the order of speakers, I went to the lectern recalling how I was safely born into this world against overwhelming medical odds right at the very beginning of the 1960s, that most optimistic of decades of the last century, full at the outset of the generous vision and imagination of great leaders like President John F. Kennedy and Pope John XXIII, with new sounds from Elvis Presley and the Beatles that brought energy and joy to the lives of millions, while the coming of television into our living-rooms with the signature tunes of popular programmes like Daniel Boone remain always evergreen in affectionate memory. And as history unfolded in the wider world, the little boy played and was happy and surrounded by so much love, so that his heart and every heart that is truly loved never grows old or weary but finds the eternal youthfulness of living, simply living.
Tricia Healy of Tralee took us to the end of life, to the reality of death which she approached in a most thoughtful and sensitive way, so that her profound and insightful speech was not at all gloomy or morbid – words indeed that she held up in cards before the audience as ones that should be put aside when it comes to this – but rather as something inevitable, peaceful, the end of all suffering and pain, indeed as something that is utterly and entirely natural and even quite beautiful.
Bobby Buckley of Mallow is a man of distinguished appearance, polished style and immense personal charm, all of which shone through in his magnificent presentation on the theme of all things sublime, calling to mind how the rhythm of life is such a powerful beat, the beat of the long distance athlete that he once was striding forward with vigour and determination through the verdant 1950sw countryside. He referred to that wonderful film Chariots Of Fire and the truly sublime music of Vangelis accompanying the young runners of another era long gone as they sprinted and splashed through the waters along the shoreline in the pursuit of excellence which he held up to us all as the worthy and true purpose of our lives.
As the contest rolled on, outside the sun was beating down with brilliance and warm glory, while Frank McKenna delivered a very fine speech all about rain, seeing it not as most people do as something ever unpleasant or inconvenient, but as the bringer of life to the earth and describing the pleasure of its soft gentleness playing around your cheeks or its steady murmur on the roof humming you to restful sleep.
After the tea-break with its opportunity for convivial chat and the meeting of friends so dearly familiar and of others encountered for the very first time which is always which fills the heart with a deep and lasting glow of warmth and inner peace: moreover there were a few moments to venture out the open glass-panelled doors into the courtyard outside and absorb some of that delightful cloudless spring sunshine. Indeed I am deeply grateful for all those friends who came to cheer me on and offer support that day.
Then it was back to the Evaluation Contest where in the test speech we listened to a gentleman tell us of how he loves to go down to the seas again, his passion for boats and the management of sails, rigging and helm, that saltiness that gets into someone’s blood and makes them find a fulfilment and serenity on the open seas with endless sky, immensity of waters and infinity of stars nothing else on the world of dry land, recounting adventures indeed when sailing in the Bristol Channel and in Carlingford Lough that brought him some memorable encounters with British military and naval patrol boats while the Northern conflict still simmered. But if such events were conspicuous by their rarity, he vividly described the sea constantly serving up its own drama of glassy smooth calmness and the roaring crescendo of huge foaming waves roiling and crashing against the rocks. The portrayal of the sea in all its moods was the subject of nine very incisive and may one even say of in-depth evaluations.
Tricia Healy of Tralee was the richly-merited winner of the Speech Contest and warmest good wishes to her on the next stage of her contest journey in Manchester in mid-May. If further details are desired of the Divisional Contest, am sure these can be found elsewhere online. As already said, this is not an account, but a mere impression of an event so filled with talent, enthusiasm, richness of insight, painstaking preparation and effort, the distillation of beautiful thought and the giving and sharing of the very best that everyone could do with utter conviction and in a spirit of optimism all accomplished with such skill and understanding that even a visit to the shadows of death was made into something hopeful and blessed with a sense of peace.
One lady answered a topic on getting up in the morning, recalling her countless juvenile risings from slumber as a boarding school student governed by the imperious command of the bell resonating shrilly down the corridor summoning her and all the other girls to Mass and then to class and the rhythms of another day of learning and trying to do their best while having lots of fun along the way. That habit of eagerly rising into the excitement of each day, she said, remains with her yet and is the guiding star of every morning and the hope ever pointing towards another tomorrow filled with promise and things of enlivening interest.
I had spoken of the summers of love of the Sixties and growing up in Fermoy. Back then as now the familiar shapes of the Galtee Mountains dominated the local northern skyline with the long flat-topped peak of Galtymore when gleaming in winter snow always resembled Mount Fujiyama in Japan. On the way home that evening we approached the Galtees from the farther side where they looked so different, gentle, rolling and majestic under the azure spring sky. Something so familiar made to look so very different just by a change of the point of view and in an altered light of perception. In Toastmasters we are all given new, vivid, engaging, refreshing and mind-broadening different views on life all the time. We got them that day in Limerick as we constantly do in our club meetings. Let us continue on that great shared journey together so that even in the days of rain, we can still generate our own sunshine.